


french girls with golden halos

by queens_smoak



Category: The Originals (TV), The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Did I Mention Angst?, F/M, Klamille, Letters, Or like a eulogy???, Post-Camille's Death, also angsty ending, angst angst angst, idk but it hurt to write this, klami, klamille and then kolvina, my bby, plec is a ballsack, wyd julie killing all these strong beautiful female characters and ruining my ships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-08
Updated: 2016-10-08
Packaged: 2018-08-20 03:39:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8234789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queens_smoak/pseuds/queens_smoak
Summary: This is the story of how the devil grows horns and a speared tail. He’d burn the whole world down until he could dig you out of the ashes.
Klaus and Cami





	

**Author's Note:**

> What up, everybody (and by that i mean the 1-3 people that are going to come across this lol). This is the first piece that i published on ao3--i mean i've always written drabbles and fanfic but i never really posted any, so this is my first. So pls be nice, even though this isn't my best work. I wrote this right after i finshed the second last episode of s3 when both davina and camille died, so i was probably still had fresh tears in my eyes while i was writing this lol ( i cry more for my fave characters than i do for things irl wow im trash). But, anyways, enjoy!

 

To Camille O’Connell (A French girl with a golden halo),

 

 

_I was the moon._

 

You are an angel who graced him with love and light and glory. You are the savior of the damned and the damaged. You took him and turned into a lover of life. You held his hands and grew vines around his ribcage and flowers sprouted from his heart. There are daisies in his lungs. His body is now a garden of hope, thanks to you. (Who will water the plants now?) You were too good for this world, you don’t deserve the fate you ultimately got. In this grim reality, you explode in colour. Your smile is like New Year’s fireworks. And God, one can gaze into your eyes it’s as if they have been cured of whatever disease that possesses them. Your hair is sunshine and your heart of pure gold.

 

_She was the sun._

 

Are you lost?

Did you stray from your path?

How did you lose your way from heaven, little angel?

How did you end up falling in love with the devil, little angel?

 

_I was war._

 

He tried corrupting you before you saved him from himself. But your divinity was too powerful, enough to reach him even. And at first, he tried denying it. But he was drawn to your light, little angel. He was drawn to your selflessness. You are good. And he is psychotic. But, around you, he was a little less chaotic—his actions were a little less catastrophic. The devil hated the world and everyone in it. The devil despised himself, but he loved you with everything he could muster. He loved you so much, he learned to love himself.

 

_She was peace._

 

The devil isn’t wicked because he feels nothing. He is wicked because he feels too much. There are too many people who have scorned him. The devil was once an angel too. People took and took and never gave back. People clutched his heart and squeezed it with all their might while he did nothing but watched. People hurt and hurt and caused him misery until he snapped and hurt back. But, you little angel, you took his soul and nursed it back to health with your tender touches and soothing words. And never asked for anything in return. You gave and gave and never took anything in return.

 

_I was disaster. She was beauty._

 

His horns were hidden, and his skin wasn't red. But his fangs were piercing the inside of his mouth the first night he met you. You were his prey. He was the predator. He would leap in the air and bury his teeth in the sweet flesh of your neck. He could taste you before he tasted it, y’know? Your blood was sweet with a tang of sour. Like your personality—the way you guided lost souls back to redemption, and yet smiled in the face of danger. But instead he walked up to you, and you had him figured out for his daddy issues and unending incessant amount of bullshit. I think he knew—the angel’s hands will one day taint with the blood of another. I think you knew—the devil will one day save the world from impending doom. How ironic, the way you knew each other’s fate yet not your own.

 

_I was sorrow. She was happiness._

 

At first, he wouldn’t lie—you were a toy in a game of chess played by the king and his right hand. But, he didn’t want to be the person to snuff out the light in you. And somewhere along the way, he felt the annoying urge to keep you from harm’s way. For the clever devil, he never knew why but just the thought of you in danger made him rage in torment. But you had the habit of being in the eye of every storm. Your body may be feeble but you mind held the strength of gladiators clad in roman armour.

 

_I was death. She was life._

 

He ran with wolves. You flew with the Gods. Mount Olympus will mourn your memory, little angel. They have a grave with you name carved into it in the clouds of heaven. But Aphrodite would be lying if she said she wasn’t envious of how fiercely you were loved by the one person who was supposed to be incapable of it.

 

_She was my salvation._

 

Listen close, little angel. You may not realize it but you are one of a kind. They call him an abomination. He is the cause of every natural disaster, every plague, and every massacre. You did something no one could do—you made the Lord of Hell want to be good. He chose you, over power and hatred and his throne made of brimstone and fire. Even though you’re gone—you’re unconditional grace influences him. He sometimes finds his hands inside some mere human’s chest cavity, feeling their heart struggling to beat as he begins crushing it like his had when your veins ran cold. And, he hears a whisper that sounds uncannily like you voice, singing a song of mercy and he releases his grip on the organ like it burned him.

 

_I was her destruction._

 

The light of the stars have faded and the air is a little less breathable since you drew your last breath. The world is bleak without you to illuminate it. Our lives have been dulled without your celestial presence. Who will save the day now, little angel? Who will tame the savage beast?  Your skin is grey as it desiccates and your wings have been replaced with fangs (a price to pay for loving the devil and him loving you just as unconditionally) but you have touched the lives of many. You have left a mark as large as a crater on this world. Your diligence hadn’t gone unnoticed. Your persistence to save a dying city is prominent. The history books will print your name, and there you will be in a picture beside a paragraph, looking radiant and stunning and _angelic_.

 

The devil has gone by a thousand names, and lived a thousand lives, and met an immeasurable amount of people but you, little angel, you were his _everything._ His galaxy.

 

The devil will go by another thousand names and live to see another thousand years, but he will love you even when your flesh rots and your bones crumble. He will whisper you name at night to himself when everyone else forgets it. He will meet you in his dreams, a place where your flesh doesn’t rot and your bones don’t crumble—a place where your ocean eyes still ignite with brilliant light and your hair glows like supernovas when light catches it in the correct angle.

 

This is the story of how the devil grows horns and a speared tail. Your body decays as it lays limp in his arms and the devil roars. The earth cracks open to reveal the horror that lies beneath and chaos pours out. He will reign hell and rain down demons to hunt down the Angel of Death until he brings you back to his side, where you belong. He’d burn the whole world down until he could dig you out of the ashes.

 

But Klaus should’ve realized, the evil in this world was bound to rotten the little angel’s innocence, one way or another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> inspired by a poem i came across in tumblr (written in between the paragraphs in italics)


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